


Sunny Side Up

by SparkKisses



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Babies, Crack, Eggs, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Other, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkKisses/pseuds/SparkKisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cease-fire has been enacted between the Autobots and Decepticons on Earth and everyone seems willing to abide by it - everyone except Starscream. He has a plan to build his own army under the cover of peacetime... the old-fashioned way. Only, like most of Starscream's plans, it doesn't quite go the way he wanted it to...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                This, Starscream decided, was his best plan ever.

                Below him, the Autobot leader shifted and was rewarded with a smack on the shoulder and a hissed “Stay _still_ , you idiot!” as Starscream pried at the seam between those windshield panels. Optimus, for his part, only increased his grip on the seeker’s hips, those blunt fingers digging into delicious seams between pelvic and leg armor.

                “You’re certainly… _hnngh_ … eager…” Optimus groaned, a hint of a smile in his voice. Starscream narrowed his optics. The Autobot was teasing him. He _hated_ being teased.

                “There’s no reason to draw this out, is there?” he snapped, scraping along the seam with deliberate slowness. Optimus squirmed a little under his touch – which didn’t bother Starscream as much when the truck was murmuring his name so very nicely. It was almost like begging, and Starscream _liked_ begging.

                “The great Optimus Prime,” Starscream purred, unable to resist. “Reduced to writhing underneath a Decepticon. How appropriate.”  Optimus seemed to rouse himself a little, at least enough to give the seeker an arch look.

                “Reduced?” the Autobot asked. “I don’t think you know how this is done, Starscream.” And before his partner could hit him again, the chestplates finally – _finally_ – parted, and Starscream was distracted by the bright, healthy light of a spark shining through. A distraction that Optimus used to full advantage.

                Starscream hissed at the hands that left his hips – then groaned appreciatively when they reappeared on his wings, surprisingly light and gentle given their size and the power he knew they held. “Mmm, _good_ ,” he murmured, and only belatedly realized he had leaned forward over Prime’s open chest. That was fine, he reasoned distractedly. A little less control than he would have liked, but it was getting the job done. As the Prime’s plating fully parted and revealed the spark underneath to the open air, the Matrix gleaming around it, Starscream had his first doubts about this plan of his.

                He was interfacing with the enemy. An enemy that wasn’t really an enemy at the moment, _technically_ , given the fragile ceasefire that stood between their factions – but certainly not an ally.

                As if the Air Commander had allies to begin with.

                Of course, this wasn’t something so foolish as a whim, or because he found the large, heavily-armored mech attractive – though it didn’t hurt – but because he had a plan, a very _good_ plan, no matter what his wingmates thought of it. This was why he never told them anything anymore…

                Optimus Prime made a noise that distracted Starscream from his thoughts, and the Decepticon looked down to see Optimus watching him expectantly. Slightly unnerving. But at least the truck knew his place and didn’t dare touch the glorious Starscream to pull him down, or anything so bold. Still, it was a demand of sorts, and if Starscream didn’t _do_ something soon, the Autobot would become suspicious…

                So Starscream forced a devilish smirk as his canopy glass split down the middle and slid inward into his frame, and the multitude of other pieces rearranged themselves to expose his spark. The dark, hidden room of the Ark that they occupied was now dimly lit by both orbs, each spark’s light reflected off the metal of the other’s frame.

                If Optimus recognized the nervous tension in Starscream, he ignored it in favor of admiring the exposed spark. “Beautiful…” he murmured, and Starscream chose to be flattered, wings hitching up a little higher and twitching self-consciously. Hesitant no longer, the seeker placed his hands on either side of the truck’s head and leaned down, leering.

                “Again,” he demanded, voice quiet and rough.

                “ _Beautiful._ ”

                Starscream fell.

 

 

                When Starscream woke, he knew it was a success. There was a blip on his HUD; critical alert, a low-level drain on his energy reserves, medical attention required. He dismissed it, sitting up with a grunt. Did he care that he was sitting on Optimus Prime’s legs and probably compressing vital fuel lines? Not at all.

                Of course, he could easily extinguish the Prime’s spark where it lay, wide open in the chest cavity of the exceptionally stupid Autobot. But… it could wait. Starscream wasn’t known for his patience, but he _could_ be patient – when the reward was high enough. The image of Optimus Prime brought to his knees was enough to stay the seeker’s hand. For now.

                Instead, he closed the Autobot’s chestplates manually and left his own open. After all, there was no reflective surface in here, and no other light source than his own spark, so Prime’s windows would have to do.

                Optimus woke to the sight of Starscream, chest still open, examining his reflection in the Prime’s plating. Before he could make a sound, the Decepticon spoke.

                “You’ve sparked me.” It was said without emotion, without looking at Optimus, but staring intently at his reflection – an image that Optimus could now see was that of a tiny, newly formed speck of light orbiting around the Decepticon’s much larger spark.

                He was struck momentarily dumb, and it showed. The situation didn’t improve when Starscream practically shoved his spark in the Autobot Commander’s face. “What? You need more evidence?” the seeker barked irritably. “Expect me to submit to your medic’s invasive examinations? My, won’t _that_ be humiliating! You’ll have to admit that you rubbed sparks with a filthy _Decepticon_.”

                “You’re not a filthy Decepticon,” was all Optimus could think to say, his processors reeling to keep up. Starscream sat back and sneered down at him. “Of course I am!”

                A quiet part of Optimus Prime’s mind dearly wanted to say ‘Well, if you insist,’ but he refrained and instead tried to gather his wits. “You needn’t submit to examinations if you don’t want to,” he said instead, shaking his head and sitting up, forcing Starscream to sit further back on his legs.

                “Good, because I _won’t_ ,” Starscream snapped. “I don’t want filthy Autobot hands contaminating my spark.”

                “They apparently already have,” Optimus pointed out helpfully. Starscream’s glare did little to silence him, unfortunately. The Autobot at least looked a little chastened. “What do you want to do?”

                Starscream gaped silently for a moment. “What?” he finally managed. Optimus bowed his head.

                “This was accidental,” the Prime admitted – the fool – and folded his hands together in his newly vacant lap. “If it is your choice… I would send the sparkling back to Primus for you.” Starscream’s optics widened, wings flared out aggressively.

                “ _What?_ ” he screeched. “Was I so good that I knocked some circuits offline? You’re _Optimus Prime_! Since when do you perform sparkling exterminations?”

                “Since Megatron perpetuated this war millennia past when it should have ended, and my soldiers are not always as wise as they should be.”

                “Hypocrite,” Starscream spat. Optimus merely shrugged helplessly. But, recalling his purpose here, Starscream calmed after a moment and fixed Optimus with a wary, sideways look, sealing his chest shut as if half-suspecting that the Prime would terminate the sparkling without asking a second time.

                “I… want it.” It was true enough. In a way. Optimus nodded with something like relief and Starscream relaxed.

                “I’m glad to hear that,” Optimus said. Starscream could hear the warm smile in his tone, and hated it. “I will do everything I can to accommodate you.”

                “Oh,” Starscream purred darkly, leaning forward to press Optimus back onto the berth with hands on either shoulder. “I know you will, Prime.”


	2. Chapter 2

                The next few days passed in a blur. A very irritating blur, in Starscream’s opinion, which he voiced loudly and to anyone who had functioning audials. Being trapped amongst Autobots was absolutely repugnant, even without the constant leers and the threats and Optimus Prime’s blasted _speeches_ about tolerance and coming together and whatever else the fool droned on about in front of his troops.

                Starscream cared for none of it. And while the thought of using the Autobots’ idiocy to his advantage tactically – they let him have limited access to Teletraan’s system that they all knew he could hack further – was certainly an appealing idea, Starscream found it less of a temptation the longer he spent aboard the _Ark_. This ceasefire had caused them all to become lax in their security (Red Alert aside) and Starscream _could_ exploit that… but in the end, he would be victor anyway, over _both_ factions, and doing anything so bold would be more to ease his boredom than anything useful.

                Starscream already had the beginnings of his new army orbiting his spark. What did he need tactical information for, when the Autobots were already eager to accept their Prime’s progeny into their ranks? Absolutely unacceptable of course, as Starscream was certain that _his_ sparkling would only become a Decepticon, utterly loyal to him. If it wasn’t, he’d kill it.

                Well, maybe not kill it. It was taking up a lot of his time and energy already. Guarding and training it until it was able to fight on its own would be tiring by itself. Simply killing it would be a waste of his time and resources… so perhaps he’d just find some other method of control. Yes, that sounded good.

                Although, killing it seemed a good option now that Starscream found himself glaring at the Autobot medic and clutching an empty metal pod the size of his head.

                “I don’t _care_ ,” Starscream spat. “I don’t want him watching! And _stop sighing you oaf!_ ”

                Optimus stopped mid-sigh, redirecting the gust of air through his smokestacks. Ratchet had a less benign reaction.

                “Don’t speak to Prime that way,” the medic complained, glaring. It was obvious that Ratchet cared little for Starscream’s presence, nor that his leader had taken up with the seeker, if the initial reaction to the news was anything to go by. Tracks and Hound had to bodily force them apart to make the medic stop shaking Prime, and _no one_ could make Ratchet stop screaming angrily even after he had been escorted from the room. Starscream’s only complaints were that his audials hurt from the assault, he wasn’t permitted to simply _shoot_ the medic to make him shut up, and the spark merging that night had been lackluster due to Prime’s sulking.

                “I can speak to him however I like!” Starscream argued, glaring right back – a look that quickly melted into a goading smirk. “ _You’re_ just jealous, medic.” Starscream turned to give a sultry look at Prime. “ _Ooh_ , _Optimus_. The sparkling needs a little boost of energy to transfer properly. Would you mind?”

                Before Optimus could respond, Ratchet interrupted. “ _It needs no such thing!_ ”

                “Shut up!” Starscream snapped his gaze back to the medic, snarling. “ _You_ don’t know!”

                “That’s because you won’t let me examine-“

                “ ** _Enough!_** ”

                Prime’s barked order echoed briefly in the medical bay – and silenced everyone else instantly. Ratchet looked apologetic; Starscream merely looked annoyed and about to start up again. Optimus didn’t allow him the chance.

                “We are not here to argue or bicker. This is an important moment, and should be treated with the reverence it deserves.”

                Personally, Starscream preferred the “reverence” he got when Optimus was moaning his name…

                “I’m sorry, Prime,” the medic apologized, looking down. Starscream said nothing. He didn’t have to. Optimus nodded.

                “Starscream,” Prime continued, and the seeker gave him a grudging glance to show attention. “You said you wanted to keep it.”

                Starscream sneered. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t put up with all of this… this _nonsense_ otherwise!”

                “Then please, let Ratchet observe. I’m aware that you have your own cultural ways about this, but I have already promised that no one will interfere as long as there is no danger – to you _or_ the sparkling.”

                “I’ve _already explained_ ,” Starscream hissed, irritated, “That it won’t be necessary. There is nothing that can go wrong that I can’t fix myself, so you can both just go waste your time elsewhere!”

                Ratchet looked about to start arguing again – but one raised hand from Optimus stalled him. Starscream watched warily and clutched the metal “egg” closer as the Prime approached – then blinked in surprise as the Autobot leader… knelt.

                “Starscream.” Prime’s voice was not soft, but… gentle. Sincere. Starscream wasn’t sure how to feel about this. “I would like to witness this. Ratchet, I am sure, would also be honored to witness this event. May we?”

                Starscream did not respond at first. He merely stared, expression blank, as he mulled it over. An honor… well, yes, it was. Optimus Prime could stay, he supposed… but Ratchet? Starscream _hated_ Ratchet. Why would he allow the medic such an honor? But… well… if he _did_ permit the medic to stay, Ratchet would technically _owe_ him for that. And a medic’s debt was highly valuable…

                “… Alright,” Starscream muttered, then grimaced at the way Prime’s optics flashed brighter with happiness. It was mildly aggravating that he had even reached a point where he could identify the Autobot’s moods.

                But at least they were backing off now, giving him space. Ratchet stepped back, but as Optimus moved to stand and retreat, Starscream reached out. “Stop!” Prime’s questioning look forced the seeker to scramble for clarification. “Stay there. I like it where you are.”

                “Slagging-“ the medic started to snarl.

                “Ratchet. Stop it.” Optimus remained where he was, kneeling in front of Starscream. He didn’t seem bothered by the position… but Starscream was too distracted to analyze why. Once he was satisfied that no one was going to disturb him, the seeker nodded curtly in approval with one last warning glare at the medic, the room, and everything in general.

                Then his chestplates parted, and there was no more talking.

                The sparkling had grown substantially in the short time between its kindling and now, fed by the frequent merges of its parents and the subsequent exchange of energy involved. (Coincidentally, Starscream had nothing to complain about in that regard.) The small orb of gently pulsating light was double the size it had been at first – and precisely the right size now to be transferred into a defendable, independent egg.

                Starscream held up the metal egg in one hand and manipulated it to expose its hollow interior. With the other hand, he reached into his open chest and – ignoring the tensed medic’s flinching – manipulated the sparkling to the front of his spark with gentle nudges of a fingertip. He knew the Autobots – and indeed, most ground-bound mechs – found this practice foreign, strange. As they should, he thought. This was something for fliers. Not for _them_.

                It had taken Starscream long enough to convince Optimus Prime to accept this particular aspect of flier culture, precisely because of that divide. Ordinarily, Starscream wouldn’t have cared – inside a chassis or an egg, the sparkling would still grow to become his weapon – but in the end, it had become something of a game for him, to see if he truly could get Optimus to agree to it. A game he had _won_ , thank you, and a little too easily. Perhaps he had been a bit too forthcoming with the fact that containing a sparkling within its egg just seemed _safer_ to him. Starscream shuddered to think of how quickly Prime would have agreed if the seeker divulged that he also had a craving for _something_ familiar in this very unfamiliar and semi-hostile environment.

                The sparkling fluttered against his spark. He could feel its small pulses, mildly distressed or angry, protesting the way its parent had stalled its orbit. Was it supposed to do that? Starscream suddenly wished he had someone else present … one of his wingmates might know about these things. What if something went wrong? The Autobot medic wouldn’t know what to do, and Starscream certainly didn’t know. He only knew how to construct the egg in the first place because the blueprints and instructions were imbedded in his programming – beyond that, he was on his own.

                But if he waited any longer, the Autobots would sense something wrong, sense weakness, and they would seek to exploit it. He had to move… even if his entire frame radiated nervous tension. So despite his uncertainty, he held the sparkling still between two fingers and pressed the open egg flush against his spark.

                The sparkling, once released from his hold, tried to resume its orbit – and slid right into the egg. The sudden emptiness startled Starscream into making a noise, which prompted both Optimus Prime and his medic to move forward, only to be warned off with a violent hiss and hiking up of wings. Starscream slid the egg’s opening closed… but kept it close to his spark. He imagined he could still sort of feel the sparkling’s energy through the egg’s metal walls, this close.

                “Starscream,” Optimus murmured, optics bright. “Is everything alright? It transferred well?”

                That was a good question. Reluctantly, the seeker pulled the egg away just far enough to peer into its window – where, thankfully, there was the bright light of his sparkling shining through. He relaxed slightly. “… It’s fine. Perfectly healthy. Stop worrying so much, moron.”

                Ratchet’s token “Don’t call Prime a moron,” sounded weak. He was staring at the egg with interest. Too much interest, in Starscream’s opinion. He glared at the medic, sealed his chest, and hid the egg from the medic’s view with his body. When Optimus stood Starscream was less defensive, but only because he knew the Autobot commander was a gentle, careful fool who had already expressed interest in keeping the sparkling alive. He had no such guarantee with the medic.

                Which made it all the more distressing when the blasted ambulance held out a hand demandingly and asked to examine the sparkling.

                “ ** _No,_** ” Starscream snarled. Surprisingly, the medic backed down, and Optimus Prime was the one who pressed forward instead.

                “I believe you when you say it’s fine, Starscream,” the truck rumbled placatingly. “But may I see it?”

                “You’ve _already_ seen it,” Starscream snapped.

                “May I _hold_ it?” Optimus amended.

                This, Starscream actually had to consider seriously. His first inclination was to instantly deny the request… but if he did, would Optimus Prime have enough of an attachment to the sparkling later on, when the inevitable betrayal occurred? And, after all, Starscream trusted the Prime to be stupidly sentimental enough to not damage the egg or the sparkling within…

But still, he hesitated, optics lingering on Prime’s large hands. Those hands had grabbed him by the wings and tossed him into a wall, punched him, and generally wreaked havoc on any Decepticon unfortunate enough to get too close. Those hands had also gripped his wings in the throes of passion and not left so much as a scratch.

In the end, Starscream decided it was because Optimus Prime was too much of a fool to avert his own destruction. He handed the egg over, and Optimus smiled at him – Starscream knew it was a smile behind that mask – cradling the egg in those large hands and lifting it carefully to peer in the window himself at the sparkling that held half his energy-code.

Far later than Starscream would have liked, it was handed back to him. He practically snatched it, glaring mistrustfully at everything and everyone. They were all too stupid to be around _his_ sparkling. They’d damage it.

“Satisfied now?” he snapped.

“Quite,” Ratchet answered just as succinctly.

“Good,” Starscream added. “Now get out.”

“ _Get out_? This is _my_ medical bay!”

Starscream gave him a spectacularly condescending look. “ _So?_ Get out!”

“ _You_ get out!”

“No! I’m carrying Prime’s sparkling, I _deserve_ the best facilities available, and this room is it! But I _refuse_ to share it with the likes of _you_.”

Ratchet looked about to blow a circuit before Optimus could get a word in. The Prime settled for just getting bodily between the two before it came to blows. In the end, it became necessary to stay there to shield the medic from his own tools as Starscream threw them and screeched for everyone to get out and leave him alone.

Once kicked out of the med bay, Starscream’s next stop was the command center. When the public gawking became too much, he left there of his own free will, which in his mind was at least a partial victory.

Being forcibly hauled off for trying to break into the security center, however, thoroughly trampled his good mood. Those oafs didn’t care that it was, logically, the safest place in the Ark and Starscream _needed_ to be inside it in order to protect his – _Prime’s_ – sparkling. They just picked him up, egg and all, and carried him hissing, screeching, and ineffectively trying to kill the lot of them, to Optimus Prime.

So now he was being _lectured_. Fantastic.

“This is _stupid_ ,” Starscream interrupted angrily. “And completely unjust. I wasn’t even doing anything damaging. I should be able to stay wherever I like!”

“You _have_ been,” Optimus pointed out with a glance around the spacious, but sparse personal quarters of the Prime. “Or…” His voice dropped just slightly. “Do you no longer find whatever it is you desire here?”

Starscream’s optics narrowed in a suspicious squint. There was some meaning in the way Optimus Prime spoke. A double-meaning that the seeker was too worked up to focus on. He scoffed instead, looking around the room.

“It’s… _adequate_ ,” he finally admitted, missing entirely the way the Prime’s optics glowed just a bit brighter. “But not how it is _now_.”

“Oh?” Optimus murmured. “How is that?”

Starscream rattled off a long list of flaws, from the base up. The structure itself needed windows (impact-proof of course), an emergency exit leading to the outside, and everything from the positioning of the furniture to the color scheme went under fire.  Optimus stood there quietly while the seeker paced around, egg firmly under one arm while the other  pointed at each flaw.

It was becoming rapidly apparent that what Starscream wanted wasn’t just a fortress – he wanted a _comfortable_ fortress, with a view.

“I’ll see what can be done,” Optimus said.

“- And worst of all,” Starscream continued, not listening, “there’s nowhere for a proper nest!”

That, more than anything, made Optimus stop and blink. “… A nest?”

“ _Yes_ , a nest! Are you deaf _and_ stupid?”

And then Optimus had to go and _prove_ it by asking what a nest was. Starscream thought he might as well just move back to the Nemesis until this was all over, rather than deal with the stupidity.

“A _nest_ ,” he snapped, being exceedingly patient by even deigning to explain, “is a structure built to hold eggs and their caretakers. It’s traditional.” That was the same argument he had used when convincing Prime to let him construct an egg. It worked just as well… and thankfully, this time, without all the confusion and shock.

“I see,” Optimus murmured contemplatively. “What does it look like?”

“… A bowl.”

“Ah!” Optimus exclaimed, recalling the time Hound and Beachcomber had excitedly led him to a bird’s nest, settled on one of the crags of their mountain home. “Like a bird’s nest?”

Starscream stared, thinking about those tiny, messy nuisances that got stuck in his turbines sometimes. “No.”

“Oh. Well… regardless, I’ll see to it that you get the materials you need to construct this nest of yours.” Starscream’s arch look stopped him. “… What?”

“The materials _I_ need?” Starscream asked. “Who said I’d be the one building it?”

“Well, why not?”

“Because _you’re_ building it!” It was Prime’s turn to give his partner a look.

“Is that traditional too?” At Starscream’s hissed “ _yes!_ ” Optimus shrugged helplessly. “Very well. I’ll build it as soon as possible.”

 

 

A week later, Optimus came back into his quarters – only to find his desk in shambles. Datapads and decorations had been swept onto the floor in a wide radius around it, and the top was covered in the shredded remains of a tapestry he had received from the Ukranian ambassador.

Perched on top of it all was a glaring seeker who happened to be half folded around the egg.

“… My desk…” Optimus started. Starscream only glared harder – and growled.

“ _What._ ” The seeker snapped irritably. Optimus promptly re-thought his approach.

“I’ll… get started on that nest, then.”

“See that you _do_.”

 

 

“Well?” Optimus prompted, only be to met with a glare and hissed “Be quiet! I’m still considering!”

Starscream was circling around a… structure, looking it up and down with critical optics, egg still tucked under one arm while his other limb was free to tap thoughtfully at his chin. He kicked the structure, secretly pleased that it did not fall apart for all that it was a jumbled mess of iron beams.

Iron. _Iron_. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t wrest something better from those pathetic human allies,” he complained. Loudly. Optimus only shrugged.

“We do not have the excess funds to afford gold in that quantity,” he explained – carefully not reacting to the surprised look on Starscream’s face. Had he not expected the Prime to at least _attempt_ to give him the best possible materials? Evidently not. The gold would have been nice, soft and pliant and pleasing to the optics. Its lower melting point might’ve caused some problems with those fire-spitting thrusters all over it, but the tradeoff might’ve been worth it if only the element wasn’t so sought-after on this planet. Oh well.

“It’ll attract rust,” Starscream complained.

“It’s been treated with Corrostop.”

“… It’s ugly.”

The spark of the matter, Optimus thought with a hidden smile. Or not-so-hidden, if Starscream’s sudden hissing was any indication. Attempting to placate his irate partner, Optimus held out his hands.

“Alright, alright,” he soothed. “You’re right. It’s… utilitarian.”

“ _Fix it,_ ’ was the demand.

“Er… how?” Optimus was at a loss. What did Starscream want out of a nest, anyway? Maybe he was still sore about it not being made out of gold…

Starscream’s frustrated shriek and stomp of a thrustered foot answered that well enough. Yes, he was still sore about the lack of gold. “You don’t know _anything_!” the seeker declared, pointing accusingly at Optimus with the one hand that wasn’t cradling their egg. “This is… unacceptable! Borderline _negligent!_ ”

“For the sparkling, or for you?” Some of the disappointment he felt in his spark must have shown, because Starscream’s furious expression softened with wary confusion. Optimus rubbed the front of his faceplate with fingers that only now Starscream noticed were worn and chipped down to the base metal, the color-nanites exhausted.

“Nevermind,” Optimus sighed. “I’ll start over. What do you need?”

“… Shut up.” Starscream glared at the nest, avoiding Optimus Prime’s gaze, awkwardly crossing his arms over his chest, the egg pressed against his plating with one hand. The little window in its shell flickered with sparklight. “I can’t have you wasting any more time with this. It’s… sufficient. With some embellishment. I guess.”

“No, I insist,” Optimus protested with at least as much sincerity as offense. Now that he looked at it, the metal could at least have been new and shined, or treated with paint, or sandblasted to make it smoother… “I’ve done wrong by you, and I will endeavor to correct-“

“Oh, _shut up_!” Starscream snapped. “I don’t want to hear your sanctimonious speeches, you selfless fool! I’ll take care of it myself! If you want something done right…”

With that, the seeker stomped up to the nest and, with a careful step, entered the jumble of metal and plopped right down in the depressed center of it. It was… surprisingly comfortable, and rather sturdy, now that he was inside it. The beams were welded together with no rough edges on the interior, forming a smooth, solid surface for Starscream to lounge upon – and, later, for their sparkling to spend its first few hours on. No gaps for small limbs to get caught in, and it was roomy enough for Starscream to stretch out if he wanted.

It was still ugly, though.

“Go,” Starscream said, shooing Optimus away with a waved hand. For now, he sat with his knees drawn up, egg resting in his lap and protected on all sides. “You’ve done your part.”

Still, Optimus lingered. “What do you need me to bring?”

Starscream picked imaginary dirt from the nest. “… Energon,” he answered. “… And a minibot.”

“I’m not bringing a minibot.”

Starscream huffed and turned his head away. “I’ll be sure to tell your sparkling that.”

“I’ll be back with energon soon,” Optimus promised, spirits lifted a bit. For all of Starscream’s fits and insults… they seemed to have come to somewhat of an understanding.

When he returned with the energon (and a can of silver paint), Starscream was already recharging in the nest – which, Prime noticed, was now adorned with the welded-on prizes of what appeared to be a swift raid of Ratchet’s supplies, Red Alert’s camera lenses, a collection of gems that Beachcomber and Hoist had been studying… There were more, all cluttered onto the outside of the nest and secured with adhesive and creative welding.

“What in the world…” Optimus wondered aloud as he approached – only to stop short as Starscream shifted in his sleep, disturbed by the sound.

Optimus really should have pried the stolen materials off and returned them. He should have woken Starscream up and made clear that such actions would not be tolerated. Yet somehow, he wound up kneeling in front of the nest, as silent as possible, quietly painting the iron beams while Starscream slept. Task finished, he stayed there for a while afterward, admiring the sight of the seeker so vulnerable, but protecting the even more fragile spark in his lap – then, Optimus stood on creaking joints, turned, and left the room behind with nothing more than drying paint and two cubes of high-efficiency energon stacked within Starscream’s reach.

As the door closed, a single red optic lit and watched the Prime’s retreat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and reviews everyone! :D I love reading what people think about the story so far, so don't stop!

“So you see, the logical choice for the new photovoltaic processing station’s location is on the southwestern side of this geological feature-“

Poor Perceptor’s proposal was tragically interrupted by a seeker to the back of the head. Starscream slammed through the door and straight into the small scientist.

“ _What_ is the meaning of this?!” Prowl thundered, standing up abruptly from the meeting table, followed swiftly by Ironhide and a couple of other officers. Red Alert nearly started screaming.

For once, Starscream didn’t pay attention to the mech in his way. He looked as if he hadn’t even noticed Perceptor’s presence, much less that the microscope had knocked into his plating. No, his attention was focused solely on Optimus Prime.

“ _What did you do with it?_ ” he hissed, red optics so bright the light was blurring around the corners.

“Get out of here Starscream!”

“This is a _private_ meeting, you can’t just-!”

Starscream’s attention abruptly swung around to the others present. “Was it _you_?” he snarled, pointing a threatening finger – and nullray – at Prowl, who bristled with weapons of his own. “ _You?_ ” Starscream continued, and swung around to point at Red Alert.

Optimus had to climb onto the table and scatter the dioramas and diagrams to get between Starscream and his officers. It was possibly the only thing that kept either party from attacking the other, peace treaty or no.

“Please!” he beseeched – more to Starscream than the Autobots – “Calm down! What’s wrong? Where –“ And it was then that he noticed the lack of a certain presence that he, and everyone else on the Ark, had become quite used to. “… Starscream, where is the sparkling?”

The seeker’s arms were empty of egg. This had not happened since its construction. Even recharging, Starscream kept the egg tucked against his plating. Now, that plating was bristling in distress and anger.

“ _That’s what I’m **asking**!_ ” The scream reverberated painfully in the small room. The room fell silent as dawning, horrified realization formed in their processors.

Someone had taken Starscream and the Prime’s sparkling.

 

 

From that moment on, it was a frantic race to find the culprit. The officers scrambled and put the Ark on lockdown. Red Alert began reviewing security footage… once he had calmed down and was reminded that this was _Prime’s_ offspring that had been kidnapped, the process went much faster. Jazz had disappeared almost immediately. Prowl was performing sweeps, systematically going through each intact chamber of the Ark’s interior to find the culprit. Ironhide expressed his opinion that the seeker had just _lost_ it, and Ratchet couldn’t decide if he wanted to help search, or scold Starscream for his stupid egg idea in the first place.

Optimus, meanwhile, had both hands full trying to assist in the search, and calm the panicked, violent Starscream who was hissing almost constantly and threatening any Autobot he saw with dismemberment and other various tortures.

Each time, Optimus interceded (often receiving scratches for his efforts) and asked if the Autobot in question knew the location of their sparkling. Each time, he was met with a negative response.

“No, Prime,” Bumblebee answered.

“Wait, it’s in an _egg_?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Slag no I’m not touching that thing,” Huffer said. “Er… no offense, Prime.”

“A big metal egg? Sure, I saw somebot with one not long ago. Why, is it a bomb or something?”

Starscream lunged and was only prevented from pouncing on poor Hound by Optimus Prime’s quick reflexes. Dangling from Prime’s solid grip around his waist, Starscream reached for the scout with malice glowing pure and bright from his optics. “ _Where is it?_ ”

“Uhh.” Hound took a hesitant step back. Optimus struggled to speak around his armful of angry seeker. “Nngh… any help… you can give us, Hound… would be appreciated.”

“Uh… sure, Prime,” Hound answered, a good deal more hesitant now with Starscream staring intently at him. “Cliffjumber was carrying it into the fore-section of the Ark. Can’t say why he’d be doing that, the whole area is mostly rubble, but – “

The scout was left talking to an empty hallway. The instant they had a location, Starscream’s thrusters ignited and left scorch marks down the corridor, dragging Optimus along.

 

 

“There.”

Cliffjumper leaned back and gave his subject an appraising look that ended with a satisfied nod. It was perfect. Well, not perfect, but still pretty good. And so what if that crazy Decepticon seeker freaked out about it? It was worth it. Optimus Prime would understand, anyway. And what was Starscream gonna do? Whatever tantrum he threw this time, Cliffjumper was certain he could handle – and most importantly, pay back in kind. Yeah, sure, ceasefire, peace, blah blah blah… but if Starscream attacked him, he sure wasn’t gonna lie down and take it!

“Well, at least _one_ of your parents will like it,” Cliffjumper told the egg, giving it a fond pat. The spark inside glowed steadily, illuminating the red, slightly lopsided Autobot symbol that had been painted on its surface and partially obscured the viewport. Cliffjumper blew on it to let the paint finish drying, and grinned a little as he spoke to it in conspiratory tones.

“I know it’s dangerous and all,” he admitted, “but I just can’t let that slag-sucking ‘Con keep you to himself all the time. The way he guards you, you’d think he actually cared. You’re Optimus Prime’s sparkling! You should know which side is the right one to pick, once you come outta there.”

He gave it one more pat, checking for wet paint, and tucked it with surprising gentleness under one arm. “Come on then, let’s go put you back. Normally I’d hope for a little action along the way, but…” He glanced down at the egg, whose shell was rather sturdy, but internal mechanics complex. “… Maybe not this time, huh? Wait ‘till you’re older before getting you some good fights with ‘Cons.”

With that, Cliffjumper slipped out of the storage closet and down the hall, humming quietly to himself.

 

 

Optimus had managed to stagger mostly to his feet by the time Starscream came to a screeching stop, rounded a corner and snapped at Optimus for running into his back.

“Starscream, I know this is urgent, but we _must_ calm-“

“ ** _Shut up._** ” Starscream’s optics were bright enough to burn as he cast his gaze around the ruined hallway. Most of its length had been collapsed and now was nothing but rock and crushed metal. But half of the corridor remained more or less intact, if unused, evidenced by the accumulation of earth dust that had settled there – everywhere, that is, except the doorway where the thick film of dirt had been disturbed.

Starscream shot off again, and tore the metal door apart opening it before Optimus could stop him. Yet, even as Optimus was calling for temperance, he too peered into the space – a supply closet, evidently – with a mingled hopefulness and fear.

It was empty.

Prime’s spark sank at the sight. Not here. There was already an alert out to the command staff to find Cliffjumper and apprehend him (not out of any fear of what Cliffjumper might do to the sparkling, but rather what Starscream might do if he found the minibot first) but Cliffjumper had evidently turned his comm. system off and was avoiding populated areas, because there was no reports yet of his reappearance. Optimus could only _hope_ that it meant Cliffjumper was hiding away, and not that he had been captured by spying Decepticons, along _with_ the egg.

If that happened, Optimus would go on a rampage that made Starscream’s current one look like his weakest temper tantrum.

Speaking of Starscream… Optimus glanced over at his – partner? lover? co-creator? – fully prepared to put out a restraining hand once again and contain Starscream’s manic rage for a few moments longer, until they could ascertain where Cliffjumper was and restrain him.

But Starscream was not moving. He stared at the empty supply closet blankly, wings held tense and high – but he did not move to continue his search. Optimus raised a hand to touch the seeker’s shoulder consolingly… but he, too, paused.

Their egg was missing. And while Optimus already loved the sparkling deeply, accepted the fact that he had failed in protecting it and felt as if he would rather have ripped his own spark out… he knew that Starscream, who was not apart from the egg at any moment since its conception, felt its loss more deeply.

“Come on,” Optimus rumbled, backing off and turning away from the scene. “Let’s go find him and get you both back to the nest.” He started off in the direction they had come from, steps less hurried now, and more deliberate.

 

 

“Pass it here!”

“You’re gonna get in _so_ much trouble Cliffjumper!” Smokescreen warned – but the effect was lessened by the amused smirk on his face as he handled the egg. No one had been allowed to see the thing up close… until now. “It’s kinda… disappointing, isn’t it?”

Cliffjumper scoffed and snatched it back. “All this fuss over it,” he said, looking down at the Autobot symbol painted over its shell. “It wasn’t even that pretty. Well, not until _I_ got done with it!”

“Starscream’ll kill you, you kn-“ Smokescreen stopped short, optics wide and staring at a point well past Cliffjumper’s shoulder. The red minibot, absorbed in looking down at the egg, missed it entirely.

“Yeah, but only if he catches-“  

Cliffjumper froze. There was a… large presence… directly behind him. He could feel it. A large, very _menacing_ presence. And as much as Cliffjumper was usually ready for a brawl, no matter where, when, or with who… he wasn’t _stupid_. He knew that if Starscream was the one behind him… he was dead.

Smokescreen watched as Cliffjumper, with the widest optics he’d ever seen on the mech, slooooowly raised the egg up above his head with both hands. When a blue hand came down to pluck the egg up, he still wasn’t sure who it was – both Optimus _and_ Starscream had blue hands after all – but the glimpse of red arms when he tilted his head back further confirmed it for him.

“Optimus!” he gasped, grinning nervously. “Hey, I was gonna return it as soon as-“ A yelp cut off the rest as the free hand came swinging down on the back of the minibot’s head in a sharp cuff. Cliffjumper whined and rubbed the abused spot, and Smokescreen watched as Optimus Prime turned and walked out of the room without a single word spoken.

He looked down at Cliffjumper and said the only thing he could. “… No one scrambles his egg.”

 

 

Optimus stormed past every mech he saw, all the way back into the medbay – where he had left Starscream to tear the place apart and hurl abuse at anyone in hearing range, accusing them of sparkling theft. Optimus would have to treat Ratchet to something nice later to make up for it.

“And where have _you_ been?” Starscream snarled the instant Prime walked into the medbay. It had been trashed. Starscream had apparently been busy while he was gone, and was in the process of dumping the contents of yet another cabinet of tools and supplies onto the floor, his back to Optimus. Ratchet had retreated into his already-wrecked office and was trying to fix the damages, if the muffled cursing was anything to go by.

Silently, Optimus walked up behind Starscream, who responded with a warning growl as he pulled a spare leg off a shelf and tossed it aside to look behind it. “Stay out of my way, Pri-“

“It’s here,” Optimus interrupted. At first, it was the deep vibration of Prime’s voice that made Starscream pause… but then, the words finally registered. Starscream turned to look at Prime with blazing bright red optics and a mouth slightly slack with surprise. “What…?”

Optimus inclined his head downward, and Starscream followed his gaze… down to where Optimus had the egg cradled in his arms, pressed against his chest. Starscream could see the faint glow of spark-light reflected off his windshield, and thought that his own spark stopped spinning in its case for several long, frozen moments before Optimus grabbed and lifted Starscream’s hands from where they hung limply at his sides and placed the egg in them.

Starscream  silently pressed the egg to his cockpit and practically hugged it, blocking the sparkling from view with both arms. He was staring down at it, expression unreadable.

“Starscream…”

“Who had it?”

Optimus put a hand on Starscream’s shoulder. “I took care of it. Let’s go back. I’ve already had security around our quarters tripled.”

“It’s not enough!” But Starscream didn’t shove the hand on his shoulder off, or go tearing off on his own to enact revenge. Optimus took it as a good sign and pushed his luck further by leaning in close, and touching foreheads with Starscream.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. He could feel the heat of stress coming off Starscream’s head. “I should have been watching over the sparkling… _and_ you… while you recharged. I was negligent. It will not happen again.”

“Damn right,” Starscream mumbled – but he allowed himself to be guided from the medbay and through the corridors, all the way back to Prime’s quarters. As soon as the door closed behind them, Starscream seemed to regain some of himself and shook Prime’s arm off his plating angrily. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped… but he retreated immediately back to the nest and plopped himself down in the center, settling in. “You don’t deserve to! I haven’t forgiven you! You’re lucky nothing hap-“

The sudden silence was deafening as Starscream finally, _finally_ felt secure enough to loosen his grip on their sparkling’s egg and inspect it… and there, right on the surface and partially obscuring the viewport, was a splotch of red paint that Starscream did _not_ want to see.

The Autobot symbol.

Starscream _shieked_. “WHAT DID THEY _DO_?” Optimus made the mistake of moving closer, momentarily panicked that something was wrong with the structure of the egg that he hadn’t noticed before. Leaning over the edge of the nest, Optimus could do nothing when Starscream’s hands shot out and grabbed him by both antennae and dragged him even closer, face-to-face.

“ _Get. Me. Cleanser._ ”


	4. Chapter 4

“Starscream.”

They were calling his name, praising him, exalting him…

“Starscream.”

They picked him up, the whole crowd supporting his body, pushing him into the air, a hand on his shoulder-

A hand. 

Starscream startled awake, optics flaring online instantly – but it was just Optimus. All at once he relaxed again, optics dimming, and resettled his chin atop the egg, arms around it possessively. “Go away.”

“Why are you in my chair?” Optimus interrupted. Starscream turned to let his cheek rest against the warm surface of the egg instead, staring at the truck. “… You’re late.” So what if he was sitting in the Prime’s chair and taking up half the desk with the egg and his arms? 

“My apologies,” the Autobot answered. “Were you waiting long?”

“I wasn’t waiting at all.” Starscream scoffed and picked his egg up, finally sitting up and getting out of the chair. Optimus nodded. “I’m glad. How are you doing?”

Starscream gave him a skeptical look as he walked towards the nest and flopped into it, dislodging a few pieces of it that he was pleased to see Optimus Prime patiently put back into place. “Don’t you mean, how is the sparkling doing?”

Optimus shook his head. “I trust you. As long as it’s healthy, everything is well.”

Starscream made a sickened sound that Optimus adeptly ignored. “Well?” the truck prompted. “Is everything well with you?”

Starscream continued to watch him for a few more moments before finally responding. “… I’m fine,” he said shortly. “Don’t smother me.” He set the egg down between his legs, noticing the way Prime’s optics followed it.

“May I hold it?”

Stupid simpering truck. Starscream sneered. “It doesn’t leave the nest without me. And I just got comfortable. Don’t you have other things to do? Why do you need to- wait, what are you doing, stop-!”

Optimus apparently took that as an invitation, because he was already halfway into the nest, moving carefully to not damage it, Starscream, or the egg. He finally managed to dodge the flailing limbs of the seeker and settle in behind him, legs stretched out on either side of the jet’s hips, feet hanging over the sides of the nest. Somewhere along the way, Starscream had fallen utterly silent, shocked.

“I’m in the nest now,” Optimus announced. Starscream gaped, tense as Optimus leaned against his back. “Does that qualify me?”

Sputtering, Starscream finally recovered. “No!” he snapped, contemplating how much it would really hurt to smack the Autobot in the face repeatedly with his wings. He froze again as arms wrapped around his waist, half-expecting to be tossed from his nest, or squeezed until his plating gave and he agreed to do whatever the Autobot wanted to save the rest of his structural integrity…

Optimus merely held him. There was a distinctive click, and Optimus spoke. “Do you want me to leave?” Starscream could feel the words on the back of his wing. Optimus had removed his mask. 

“Don’t be so stupid all the time,” Starscream answered. For that, he got the soft vibration of a chuckle against his wing that made the appendage shiver faintly. “What do you want, Prime?”

The silence went on long enough that Starscream was about to snap at him, when Optimus finally spoke up, voice uncharacteristically quiet but still pleasantly rumbling down to the seeker’s struts. 

“You, Starscream.”

It wasn’t the answer Starscream was expecting. He stared at the far wall, unseeing, for almost long enough to make Prime start squirming. Before the Autobot could start asking stupid questions or continue into one of his infamous and hated speeches, the Decepticon Air Commander decided to nip this in the bud.

“Well, naturally,” he said, in a voice that was half sneer and half purr. “But that doesn’t explain what you want from me, Optimus Prime.”

There was silence again, a noiseless void that made Starscream increasingly nervous. He had offended the Prime, he had misspoken somehow, and his frame tensed with the anticipation of pain, unconsciously hunching around the egg in his lap more securely.

“You really don’t understand,” came the soft, sad murmur from behind him. Starscream’s wings flicked slightly in surprise, and he turned his head to look behind him (an awkward feat, with their position and his frametype). Optimus Prime was looking at him, frowning softly, blue optics dimmed. 

“What can I do?” the Prime continued, seemingly talking to himself. 

“Stop being stupid,” was Starscream’s automatic response. Prime’s mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile. 

“I’m afraid that will never satisfy you,” he admitted. Silence stretched between them for longer than Starscream was comfortable with. So, fidgeting, he finally made a decision.

“So do something that _will_ satisfy me, Prime.”

Thank Primus, Optimus knew exactly what he meant and didn’t waste time with confusion. Starscream leaned into the kiss and let his optics offline, heedless of the discomfort of twisting in such a position. 

There were times when Starscream thought twice about killing the Autobot leader in the end. Now, he decided, he wouldn’t. Optimus Prime would make a much better berth companion than a dead trophy.  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Day 1**

It occurred to Optimus Prime that perhaps a more… _official_ arrangement would be prudent. There was, after all, still a war going on – even if the cease-fire was holding, albeit tenuously – and both sides of the conflict needed a sign of the Prime’s commitment to lasting peace. Besides… everyone needed a break from the tension of the last few months of making polite with their mostly-but-not-quite enemies. Something to let off the steam. A little bit of structured inter-factional fun.

At least, that’s what he told his officers when he brought up the idea of a wedding.

It wasn’t fair, perhaps, to not tell them the idea’s originator – but given Ratchet’s stricken face, some of them might have already guessed.

Starscream glanced up at him when he came back to his – their – quarters. He sat, as always, in the nest with their egg tucked beneath one arm. His other hand held an over-sized human magazine titled “Parenting Monthly”. It was a gift from the printing company, no doubt a publicity stunt to boost sales. The news of a “baby robot” had set the humans into fits, both good and bad, and the result was an endless process of turning down invasive interview requests and accepting the gifts thrust upon them with the graciousness of a true diplomat. The magazines were only one such gift, and so far the only one Starscream had deigned to even touch – the collection of outfits and costumes in the human style of infant clothing scaled-up to fit a small Cybertronian still sat in their boxes in Optimus Prime’s spacious storage unit, though Optimus had already penned a letter of gratitude to the hardworking women of the Housewives of Nippon Committee.

“Did you get it done?” Starscream asked, turning a page absently and making a face at whatever new article or human infant’s visage he saw there.

“Get what done?”

Starscream’s flaring red optics gave Optimus all the warning he needed. The Prime held his hands up disarmingly as he approached, slow and circuitous. “It’s done,” he promised. “They weren’t happy about it, but… well. I was convincing.”

Starscream rolled his optics, but in a way Optimus was certain was more exasperated than disgusted. “Were you now,” the seeker remarked flatly as Optimus knelt next to the nest. There was no mistaking the flicker of Starscream’s optics as they glanced at the Prime in such a position – which was precisely why Optimus held it.

“Mmhm,” the Prime hummed, expression warmly affectionate. “The date is set three months from now.”

“ _Three?_ ” Starscream flicked the magazine shut. “ _That’s_ as soon as you can manage? I knew Autobots were slow, but this is just sad.” His red optics narrowed and a tight, mocking little smirk grew across his face. “I suppose you just weren’t… _convincing_ enough.” And with a haughty little huff, Starscream flicked his magazine open again and resumed reading.

Or at least, he tried to. Optimus leaned forward after a few moments, arm braced against knee, and growled his engine. “Not convincing enough?” he repeated.

A wing twitched. Starscream ignored him.

“I see I’ve damaged your confidence in me-“

“There wasn’t any,” Starscream interrupted.

“-so allow me to show you…” Optimus braced both hands against the edge of the nest, earning a sharp glance from its occupant, “…how convincing I can be.”

“What are you plo- _MMM!_ ” His muffled outrage couldn’t escape the Prime’s lips, even when he bit peevishly at them, so it was gradually swallowed up. Both sparks pulsed in their casings and, unseen by either, the small but growing spark in its shell echoed the surge in their energy fields.

Gradually, Starscream freed himself. “One month,” he growled against the Prime’s cheek. His ventilation systems made an embarrassing hiccup as Optimus nuzzled the side of his head. Damned cuddly Autobot.

“One month,” he repeated stubbornly, and then could speak no more.

\---

**Day 9**

“This is the stupidest thing I have ever-“

“Of _course_ we will be honored by your attendance, Ambassador.” Optimus spoke loudly so as to hopefully drown out the voice behind him and thus avoid a diplomatic disaster. Luckily, the human diplomat seemed satisfied with the “invitation” and quickly wrapped up their conversation. The vid screen went dark before the human could witness a pair of blue fingers reach out from the shadows behind Optimus Prime and grab the Autobot leader by the antennae.

Optimus hissed as he was pulled around, reaching up to try and extricate Starscream’s fingers from their grasp on him – but Starscream did not relinquish his hold.

“What are you doing?” the Decepticon cooed.

“Taking calls,” Optimus grunted, wondering how much it would hurt to simply fling the seeker over one shoulder.

“Reaaally? Because it looked to me-“ he pinched the antennae and Optimus growled warningly at him “-like you were permitting human filth to attend my ceremony.”

“They’re curious,” Optimus explained.

“So?”

“And there is no harm in their presence.”

Starscream spluttered at that, and released Optimus as if his plating were suddenly acidified. Optimus straightened up and rubbed at his offended antennae while the seeker bundled up all his protests into one neat little package.

“They’re _not_ attending!” The screech reached decibels that hadn’t been heard in nearly a year. “I refuse to have organics ruining it!”

“They won’t even be noticeable.” Optimus tried to reassure him, but Starscream was unreasonable. He hadn’t had much to outright protest in too long, and now it was all coming out in one big xenophobic gush.

Optimus could only be glad the seeker was getting it all out early.

\---

**Day 16**

“ _This_ is the best you can do?”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Wheeljack groused, “we don’t exactly have the resources on this planet to-“

“Then go _get some_.” Starscream loomed over the smaller Autobot and his quite reasonable spread of attire, hands on his hips and glaring hot enough to ignite suns.

“Look, princess,” Wheeljack interrupted, heedless of the danger, “Perceptor worked hard on this junk, so why don’t you just- HEY! _HEY! QUIT IT YOU CRAZY SLAGGER!_ ”

The stress, Optimus thought. It was the stress that made Starscream beat Wheeljack with his own diadem and set off security alerts and _nearly break their cease-fire_.

Stress, Optimus thought. Like he needed any more of it.

\---

**Day 25**

“Remind me, old friend,” Optimus murmured as he stood in the threshold of the Ark looking outward at a cleared and glass-smooth expanse of two square miles set at a good five-mile distance from the Autobot base. “Remind me why I thought this was a good idea.”

Something about peace and cementing sparks to the cause of it or something, Ironhide supposed. Instead he just leaned against the doorway and shrugged. “Beats me, Prime.”

Starscream had left his nest (complaining the entire time about the necessity of it) and was directing the activity with increasing irrationality. Still, the Autobots set to this task tried their best, erecting facsimiles of Cybertron’s Golden Age towers at strategic points in the desert, attempting to make Earth look a little more Cybertronian, though it was all in vain. The blue sky and disturbed animal life were not to be covered up, and dust kept blowing onto the smooth glass “floor” Starscream melted into the desert floor. No amount of sweeping it off kept the seeker satisfied.

Ironhide watched, and thought, and looked at the Decepticon Air Commander Starscream and looked at his leader Optimus Prime, and scratched at a bit of dirt wedged in his pelvic joint.

“I hope the fragging is damn circuit-blowing,” he said. Prime’s engine flipped and sent him into a spluttering coughing fit that lasted a good five minutes.

\---

**Day 41**

The ceremony was… ostentatious, to say the least. It was the only word Optimus could think of, looking over the extravagant decorations and the milling crowd of highly polished Autobots and – evidence that Primus approved of their union and saw fit to sway the minds of his children – Decepticons, though the two groups kept separate and the tension in the air was thick.

Optimus himself was coated thickly with polish and had been scoured, scrubbed, painted, polished and primped thoroughly the night before. The crown he had gently but firmly refused, much to some Autobots’ disappointment, but the cape he found dignified for a formal occasion and accepted. The weight of the material kept it immobile in the Earth breeze as he stood apart from the pre-ceremony crowd, attended by Jazz and Prowl at his side. Prowl had the far-off look of a bot coordinating many things at once and directing every movement from afar – Jazz scanned outward with a look of relaxation that was entirely false.

“You sure about this, Prime?” he asked as he stared at Soundwave’s back. Megatron had not deigned to attend, but sent an officer in his stead with “congratulations” worded only politely enough to not dissolve their shaky treaty. Optimus wondered if Soundwave hadn’t edited it before delivery.

"Which part?” Optimus replied distractedly.

“Oh, you know,” Jazz hummed and inspected his fingers as Soundwave turned. Sideswipe was close to the unofficial “border” of their territories and saying something to Rumble. “All of it. Seriously, Prime,” and here Jazz put a hand on his arm and Optimus looked down at Jazz’s frowning face. “You don’t have to do this. Not if you don’t want to. Not for us. Not for peace. We can find another way.”

Optimus stared, and in his peripheral vision he saw Prowl looking at him also. Two of his most loyal Autobots, neither of whom were strangers to sacrifices and atrocities for the greater good, looking at him for the slightest hint that he was _personally_ reluctant to go through with this.

It made his spark warm.

“Do not worry, friends,” he rumbled – that particular resonance that made any bot relax, put their sparks at ease even when their processors refused to rest. He watched them relax – but their stares were just as intense as ever. He smiled at them.

“I’ve already given it thought,” he said, turning his gaze to the setting sun. The ceremony was to be a night one, to better mimic Cybertron’s skies – though the stars were different. “Believe me, I have. Especially in the last few weeks.” Jazz chuckled, but Prowl did not.

“But this… feels right.” Optimus touched the center of his chest. Jazz’s laughter died. “It was never something I desired. But now that it is here, I… find myself desiring it nonetheless.”

“Starscream?” Prowl asked. “Or the sparkling?”

“Both.”

\---

“So, wait, the bride goes _first_?”

Bumblebee looked down at the small gaggle of politicians interested enough to attend the ceremony, but he couldn’t tell which one had asked the question. He was starting to regret volunteering to be the “cultural liaison” for them.

“Starscream is a lot of things,” he said quietly. They were, mercifully, far enough away from the main event that no one important heard them. “But a _bride_ isn’t one of them.”

“He’s dressed like one,” another human pointed out. Bumblebee glanced up as Starscream made his long, _long_ walk (more like a strut, really) down the center aisle. In some ways, he supposed, it _did_ resemble a human wedding. But considering which came first chronologically, it was Bumblebee’s opinion that human marriage ceremonies happened to resemble Cybertron’s. At least, Spike and Carly’s had.

Starscream was so polished it almost hurt to look at him. If it had been day instead of night, he might have actually burnt out a few optic sensors. The cape that wafted behind him was a deep, rich, Decepticon purple, and the crown gracing his head was set with so many precious gems that Bumblebee wondered if they were going to be doing more heavy labor for various human countries for the next decade to pay for them all. That wasn’t even touching the diamond-dust paint that formed graceful and elaborate-looking glyphs across the back of the seeker’s wings. The font was of a complexity and style Bumblebee was unfamiliar with, but he imagined it had something important to say.

Something like “haha, I’ve got your Prime wrapped around my ailerons, literally”.

Bumblebee sighed. “The Prime’s Intended arrives first. Traditionally, he has to… uh, woo Prime at the altar, so to speak.”

“What does he have to do?”

“It’s not a very traditional ceremony,” Bumblebee hurriedly dodged.

Another human frowned, looking through a pair of binoculars. “Is that a basket he’s carrying?” Bumblebee looked again.

“Ah,” he said. “It is.”

“What’s in it? A ring?”

“No,” Bumblebee said. “How would we wear rings?”

He counted it lucky that the humans devolved into a discussion of their various marriage customs and cultural differences. Otherwise they might’ve asked more questions about what was _actually_ in that basket, and while the fact that there was a “baby robot” on the way was public knowledge, it was better for everyone if the humans didn’t know how the process worked, what the sparkling looked like, or that Starscream refused to be parted with it and was, in fact, carrying it on his arm in an intricately weaved metal basket. The filaments that made up the structure of the basket had been bent to evoke certain glyphs – the usual ones, like unity and harmony and resonance. He wondered who still even _knew_ that skill.

Bumblebee looked again. The slagger had been gracious enough to liberally douse the shell of their sparkling with crushed diamond-dust that was flaking off gradually in the breeze. Humans wouldn’t see anything in the low light, but to Cybertronian optics it left a wake of shimmer behind. A subtle effect which Bumblebee thought impressive, actually. For Starscream anyway. Was that a ribbon tied in a bow over the viewing port? Cute.

Once Starscream took his place at the front, he did not turn to face the audience. His wings spread wide, showing off the intricate glyphs that glittered even in the faint lighting. Bumblebee reminded the gathered humans to remain absolutely silent during this.

When Optimus appeared at the end of the walkway, every Cybertronian hushed too. The communal hum of their systems quieted to almost nothing. It was like an entire congregation holding its breath as Starscream stood completely still on the stage.

_‘A rather… unique display,’_ Tracks commented over the comms system.

_‘Isn’t he supposed to… you know,’_ Hound added. _‘Entice?’_

Bumblebee had never been to one of these things – in fact, there were only a handful of bots left who ever had – but he was having some of the same doubts. He knew that it was the intended’s job to lure the Prime to him… so what was Starscream doing just standing there?

Optimus was moving slowly closer anyway. His heavy cape moved with every swing of a leg, and it was only belatedly that Bumblebee realized his steps matched the beat of a sparkpulse. When Optimus was close enough to the seeker to reach out and touch, he stopped and stood behind Starscream. Then – and only then – did Starscream do anything to convince the Prime.

He started the traditional entreaty… and then bastardized it by swapping all the possessive identifiers to indicate Prime would be _his_ and not the other, more traditional arrangement. Bumblebee could feel Mirage’s indignation from all the way in the back.

Optimus Prime… stepped forward. He touched the seeker by one arm and turned him gently to face him. Starscream’s face was set in determination – not at all the relieved and worshipful face any Autobot would have worn. Optimus Prime didn’t seem to mind much as he put a hand over Starscream’s spark. Starscream seemed to mind very much as he reciprocated with a hand over the Prime’s spark.

A glow pulsed between their bodies and several onlookers – Autobot and Decepticon – gasped in mingled shock and anticipation. Were they spark-merging right here and now? Was that a thing?

But Starscream glanced down at the light between them with optics flickering in uncertainty and irritation, and Optimus’s gaze followed.

Their position had placed the basket between them, and blue-white light shone out of loosened seams in the shell. Starscream’s reaction was surprisingly delayed.

The chaos that erupted in the wake of Starscream’s running departure required officers of both factions to quell. Optimus followed on the seeker’s heels, lifting the jet bodily when he began tripping over his own cape in his rush to return to the Ark.

“Well they’re certainly eager,” a human commented behind Bumblebee. He’d forgotten they were there.

“There, you see,” another chimed in. “We’re not so different! He’s carrying his bride across the threshold.”


End file.
